


The Taste of Forever - MH

by Writer_Of_Life



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Greg Lestrade, Dark Mycroft Holmes, M/M, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2020-12-27 01:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21110177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Of_Life/pseuds/Writer_Of_Life
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Mycroft Holmes likes to keep his in the basement.





	The Taste of Forever - MH

The doorbell rang just as Mycroft closed the basement door. It was past midnight and he wasn’t expecting company. Maybe it was a mistake. He stopped his trek to the door and waited.  
Another knock. More insistent this time.  
“Damn.” He quickly washed his hands and checked his nails for stains.  
Mycroft opened the door just as Detective Inspector Lestrade was preparing to knock for a third time.  
“Detective Inspector?” Mycroft was confused, but he remembered to keep his face blank. Show no weakness. “How can I help you?”  
Unlike the government official, Lestrade could not keep the shock from his features. It was comforting to Mycroft to be the sure-footed one in the situation.  
“Um, yeh. One of the neighbors said they heard some strange noises. Sounded like someone screaming.” Lestrade looked around Mycroft’s shoulder. “I think they gave me the wrong address.”  
A delicate ring echoed through the foyer. The oven.  
Lestrade looked at him quizzically. “Do you need to check that?”  
Mycroft calculated the situation in his head. He needs to deal with the oven, but he also couldn’t dismiss the Inspector so coldly. It would be suspicious.  
“I do, Inspector.” Mycroft stepped to the side. “Please, come in.”  
Lestrade smiled at him and he had to work harder to keep his expression blank. Lestrade’s smiles were enough to pull him from his darkest nightmares. He would love to examine it more intimately. Mycroft had fought that particular desire for nearly a decade.  
“Ta.” Lestrade stepped inside, unbuttoned his coat and hung it on the rack. “Am I interrupting something?”  
Mycroft grinned at the Inspector as the oven called for his attention again. “Of course not, Inspector. Just some late night stress cooking. Make yourself at home, I shall return momentarily.”  
The official exited the room and made his way quickly to the kitchen. He hoped his toddling around with Lestrade had not allowed his prize to suffer. He opened the door and was relieved to see the pie was just crisped around the edges. Perfect.  
“Well, that looks tasty.” Lestrade said from the doorway. “Smells good, too.”  
Mycroft stiffened. He clearly did not think about the consequences of Lestrade still being in the house when the pie cooled. He had less than 10 minutes to discreetly remove Lestrade from his home without allowing for suspicion or tours of curiosity.  
“Thank you.” He set the timer, turned to face Lestrade and shuffled him back towards the drawing room. Then a thought occurred to him. “You are a Detective Inspector, Lestrade. Why are you making house calls at such an hour?” Mycroft internally groaned as a blush spread across the policeman’s cheeks.  
“Well, it makes a lot more sense now.” Lestrade said as he attempted to hide his flushed cheeks as he sat in the nearest armchair. “Donovan said the report was urgent and gave me an address. I am starting to think this was a little bit of a set up. I’m really sorry, Mycroft.”  
Mycroft smiled at him and settled into the chair closest to Lestrade. “It’s not a problem, Inspector. Truly.”  
Lestrade stared at his worn work shoes and sighed. “Greg. If I’m going to be standing in you home at 1 a.m., I think we can drop the formalities.”  
When the Inspector looked up, Mycroft took a breath he didn’t need. “Of course, Gregory.” His eyes were so full of trust. It was almost unfair how easily Mycroft could manipulate him if he so chose. How he could twist the horrors of his life into tales of beauty and have Lestrade believe every one of them so easily. Mycroft half listened as Lestrade talked about his newest case with Sherlock. He watched his mouth move with his words in wonder. Lost in thought, he smiled at the Detective Inspector.  
A run echoed around him and he realized that his time was up. He looked at Lestrade and the smirk he found there was almost villainous. Mycroft decided he loved it more than his sun-bright smile.  
“Is that the pie?” Lestrade asked, as he stood and peaked around Mycroft towards the kitchen. “Shall I help you out with that?”  
Mycroft stared at the Inspector. He was being quite direct and his pupils were larger than they were moments ago. Mycroft liked where this was going.  
“Please.” Mycroft led the way into the kitchen and as he pulled down two plates, he noticed Lestrade as he lingered at the door to the basement. “You don’t want it to get cold.”  
The Inspector turned away from the basement door and that smirk was back. Even more defined this time. Mycroft loosened his tie.  
He placed the pie in the center of the small bar in his kitchen and handed Lestrade a freshly sharpened knife. “Will you do the honors?”  
The policeman smiled and nodded as he began to cut. Soon there were two pieces of Mycroft’s baked creation shared out onto plates and he waited for Lestrade to begin. Despite himself, he could not wait to enjoy Lestrade’s reaction. Depending on good or bad, he had a plan. But, he really hoped for the good path. Mycroft had held out long enough. All he needed was the slightest push to take what he wanted. And by God, he wanted.  
Lestrade lifted the full fork to his mouth and sniffed at the duel layers of blood pudding. Then it disappeared between his lips and Mycroft’s whole world stopped. Lestrade’s eyes were locked on Mycroft’s as he chewed. Then suddenly his eyes were back on the basement door.  
“Tastes like brunette.” The smirk he graced Mycroft with almost knocked him off of his chair. “With just a touch of o-negative. Beautiful.”  
Mycroft realized his mouth was hanging open, his fangs in clear view. “Gregory —” His thought was cut short as his back hit the locked door of the basement. “Ah, there was no phone call.”  
Lestrade licked a stripe up his neck and openly grinned at him, his sharp wolf teeth on full display. “Knew you catch on eventually. I’ve known about your little play things for weeks. I could smell them on you. The fear. The despair. The pain.” He licked his lips, inches from Mycroft’s. “Delicious. It took every ounce of my control not to pounce on you every time I saw you. God, Mycroft. You have no idea how bloody good you smell.”  
Both of Mycroft’s fangs were fully unsheathed and had cut slightly into his bottom lip as he looked at Lestrade. The blood welled up to a bubble and threatened to fall.  
“Let me get that for you, love,” Lestrade said as he smoothed his tongue against the wound savoring the tiny crimson offering. “Better than I dreamed.”  
Mycroft shivered. “Gregory.” Lestrade’s name slipped past his lips like a prayer. It was an unspoken rule that vampires and werewolves didn’t fraternize.  
Mycroft lived to break the rules, and so, it seemed, did Lestrade.  
‘If we take this upstairs, will there be any interruptions from the basement?” Lestrade asked as he nuzzled into Mycroft’s neck, scenting him. “I really don’t want to be interrupted. I have been making plans for years to get my hands on your pale, gorgeous skin and I want to take my time.”  
This time Mycroft let the groan slip from his throat. “No interruptions.”  
With a kiss, Lestrade pushed Mycroft back against the wall and crowded against him. A low growl escaped the policeman as he moved just far enough away to look Mycroft in the eyes.  
“Good.” Lestrade nipped at Mycroft’s throat, tasting the beautiful tang of blood. “Then lead the way, Gorgeous.”


End file.
